#dismayed dithering

[dismay3dd3vilw00d]

Late to the party here fs but I really like the Sophie's Splendid Stitches menu, and the mechanic all around as a whole! I have pretty poor eyesight, and a specific eye condition that makes focusing on small text and icons difficult, so the bigger menu size is really nice on my eyes and I hope staff moves it to Baldwin's as well :3 Also all of the recolors have been so cool! I personally have been going ham with the halo recolors, and I'm super excited to see what gets added next! I'm also a huge Everlux lover. Sophie is easily my favorite NPC now. All around the anni update was a Win for me personally lol.

[dismay3dd3vilw00d]

I personally don't hatch for any special dates myself, or host nests for anyone who does, as I'm an unfortunately forgetful and busy person and I don't want to deal with the stress, so Boons of Fertility have never been something I've needed. I also think it kinda sucks you can't use it on the last day of a nest incubation, as that's when I feel ppl usually realize a nest won't hatch in time. Unsure why devs chose to do that /neutral.

Gem Specialty Item Census: Boon of Fertility

Cost: 350g

[vivid-ink]

"The Love Shack" Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Read Part I - The Proposition HERE

Story Summary: You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?...

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI Word count: 7.9k Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting

Author's Note: Thank you to all of you who read, commented, reblogged, liked and asked to be tagged for Part II!

@teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @ @akiras-key @bajbr @questioningconstellationsstuff @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @ @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @clairevoyanceee @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld

Here is Part II and I warn ya, it's all filth. 🤭 Grab a glass of wine, a blanket, a towel, whatever you need... and enjoy!

***~~~***

Indecision wasn’t something you were accustomed to. You’d always prided yourself on making strong decisions both personally as well as professionally. It was one of the reasons you rose through the ranks to beat out all the other warriors to become Neteyam’s second-in-command. So, the fact that you’d spent majority of today vacillating in your decision to either go or not go to the outpost was an uncomfortable anomaly.

The conclusion of last meal earlier in the evening had brought with it a burning imperative for you to make your final decision and stick with it. You were dismayed to find that the urgency of the time didn’t help you one bit.

You’d trudged on shaky legs into the woodlands in the outpost’s general direction, before being overwhelmed with a severe case of cold feet. However, instead of turning and running for home, you’d plopped yourself down on some moss and begun whittling away at your half-finished spear from yesterday while you dithered further.

That was a couple of hours ago and it was getting late now.

The present found you parked in the woodland scrub just outside the old outpost with your finished spear in hand. The hesitant side of you hoped that maybe Neteyam and Lo’ak might have abandoned their proposition after your no-show, given the late hour. However, the lambent glow of the lamps inside the outpost shelter and the muffled sound of one of them laughing told you otherwise.

The curious side of you thrilled with anticipation at the unknown…

The brothers had done well to refurbish the abandoned outpost. It had been the central gathering place for the war council during the Long War with the sky people, and it had suffered severe damage during battle. The end of the Long War had been a long-awaited blessing and the outpost had been abandoned, its function no longer necessary and the memory of what it symbolised too painful for some to bear.

But Neteyam and Lo’ak had rebuilt the damaged settlement, renewing it with new textiles, new fibres and new designs. Apart from its core structure, it hardly even resembled the old war outpost anymore.

Approaching the outpost’s entrance where a set of draping cloths served to shield its interior from outside eyes, you steeled yourself under your breath, “Come on, just go and have a look. You can leave if it’s not your thing, like Neteyam said.”

You’d come this far… one peek wouldn’t hurt? If you were honest with yourself, the taste of Neteyam’s kiss had lingered on your lips and tongue all of last night, and it was your craving to experience it again that had brought you here.

Urging your feet forward, you were in process of reaching to part the cloths when they suddenly flew apart from before you as someone made to exit. You hissed, startled in alarm, instinctively lowering yourself into a defensive position with your spear pointed frontward.

“Argh! Holy shit!” Lo’ak exclaimed, stumbling backward in the face of the sharp weapon you were wielding, “Great Mother, who do you think you’re going to be spearing with that?!”

Immediately lowering your spear when it became apparent you were in no danger, you were quick to deliver a faltering apology, “Sorry, you gave me a fright!”

“I gave you a fright? Goddamn woman, I was just going to take a leak and I nearly pissed myself!”

“Sorry!”

The other side of the entry cloths parted to reveal Neteyam who had come to investigate. There a momentary flash of surprise on his face before one side of his mouth quirked upward in a wily grin that made your ears heat.

Recovered now from the scare you’d inflicted on him, Lo’ak shot a smug smirk at Neteyam and remarked at you, “You’re very late. Don’t have too much fun without me, I’ll be back.”

Neteyam stepped aside to allow you to enter while Lo’ak left to relieve himself. You padded on tentative feet into the outpost and you were astonished to find the space quite innocuous. The interior held all the usual furnishings that you’d expect in a living space; rugs, throws, cushions and soft mats; woven decorations hung from the upper framings of the outpost and a cosy-looking fire burned in a central hearth.

Your expression must have betrayed your thoughts as Neteyam broke the silence with a chuckle, “Not what you expected?”

“I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest.” That was mostly true, you didn’t have any specific expectations or imaginings of the place, you just hadn’t expected the space to look so normal.

From the salacious gossip that had run rampant amongst the women about their experiences here, as well as from your memory of the sensual cries you’d heard that one night you’d ventured near enough, you’d projected a more sordid atmosphere than the one you currently found yourself in.

“When you didn’t show soon after last meal, I figured you weren’t coming.” Neteyam breathed.

You turned to look at him properly for the first time this evening and you noticed his relaxed attire. You were used to seeing him in full warrior regalia, but tonight he was dressed simply, without his cummerbund, arm and leg guards, and no weapons. A beaded choker necklace adorned his neck and a woven armband hugged one of his impressive biceps, but apart from this and a purple loincloth, the rest of him was bare.

You could see so much of his skin… smooth and striped, and cerulean blue all over hard muscle…

“My curiosity evidently won out in the end.” You replied, attempting to tamp down the buzzing knot of nerves in your belly with a small smile at him.

“You can put this down.” Neteyam reached for your spear, prying it gently from your grasp and moving to set it against the nearest wall. His eyes glimmered warmly in the firelight, “No one will hurt you here.”

You nodded, rubbing your empty palms together with a deep breath. You began to circle the space, noticing that it was bigger than you initially thought as there were more cloth draperies that hung to the sides of the shelter that served to partition it off into different sections. Each section held more of the same comfortable furnishings, but the drapes clearly served the purpose of privacy.

Thankfully, as your curiosity increased, your nervousness decreased and you finally felt comfortable enough to ask, “So, what? The women come here and everyone just plays?”

A husky chortle from him, “If that’s what people want to do. Sometimes everyone just relaxes over some drinks and hangs out. Things don’t necessarily always escalate into more.”

You cast him a sceptical look, continuing on your exploration of the place, “And how often is it that sex and body play doesn’t end up on the agenda?” If gossip was to be believed, then you knew it wasn’t often at all that things stayed chaste.

When Neteyam didn’t respond, you turned to face him as he followed you and the wicked grin on his face confirmed that what you’d surmised was right. You rolled your eyes and he laughed.

“And what are these tawtute (human) things that all the women rave about? These tools that supposedly bring pleasure like nothing they’ve ever experienced before?” You queried, intentionally keeping your tone flippant despite the flagrantly sexual nature of your question.

Neteyam’s hot breath ghosted the nape of your neck and you realised he had walked right up to your back, “Come, I’ll show them to you.”

A warm, large hand enveloped one of yours and he led you over to another part of the shelter where a cloth-covered shape lay. Kneeling before it, Neteyam lifted the soft cloth to reveal an intricately designed chest woven from flax and colourful fibres. Undoing the leather snap at its front, he opened it to reveal a plush-lined inner in which sat a series of instruments in of varying shapes and materials you’d never seen before.

The colours of these instruments were also bright, unnaturally so. There were a myriad of shades and tones of colour that existed on Pandora, but the pinks, purples a blues you were looking at were very artificial. A bright blue tool caught your eye and unable to resist, you slowly reached to pick it up. It was smooth and long, and you could only just wrap a hand around the width of it. Its length was also slightly curved, tapering upward at the end.

Neteyam watched quietly as you picked through the various offerings in the chest, running your fingers over the smooth silicone of the toys. He fought to keep his composure as erotic thoughts of you using them began to assault him. You appeared rather intrigued by the blue g-spot vibrator you held, though he could tell by the slight frown on your face that you weren’t really sure what it was for.

“That’s an insertion toy. It goes inside you.” He informed, “And if you turn it on. It vibrates.”

Vibrates… You’d never heard that human word before and you didn’t know what it meant. You let Neteyam take the toy from you and he fiddled with something on its length before it came to life with a buzzing hum that made you jump.

Extending cautious fingers towards the humming toy, you touched its vibrating form before withdrawing your hand, “It tickles.”

“It feels good against you when it’s in the intended place.” Neteyam’s voice was slightly rough and you could smell the familiar musk from last night emanating from him again.

“Do they all go inside?” You asked, eyeing up the other oddly shaped toys, some of which did not look particularly comfortable to insert.

“Not all. This is a wand vibrator and it’s generally only for external use.” He picked up a purple toy, which had a longer handle and a large bulbous head at the end. Switching this one on, you noted that his one hummed even more aggressively than its blue predecessor.

“Whoa, straight into the toy box, are we?” Lo’ak had returned and his voice was a teasing drawl as he joined you and Neteyam, “Getting right down to business then.”

Ears flattening a little at the jibe, you harrumphed at Lo’ak, “I’m just looking.”

The few loose braids by his temple clacked as he laughed, “Oh, they’re not made for looking at, trust me.”

The bravado you’d found waned a bit with Lo’ak’s return, the reality of the situation seeping into you. Great Mother, were you really here discussing sexual implements with two men?... Were you seriously contemplating engaging in a sexual encounter with them?...

Standing up to put some distance between you and the two brothers, you dusted your knees off lightly and suddenly felt rather out of place. You didn’t know what to do with your hands and you didn’t know where to rest your eyes either.

Sensing that his bold teasing had thrown you off kilter, Lo’ak stood to meet your eyes and his face was sincere as he spoke, “Hey, if you were curious and just wanted to see what this place was about, that’s OK. We can just hang if you want to.”

You didn’t acknowledge Lo’ak’s last statement with a definite answer. You warred within yourself. What did you want?... You were nervous, but you didn’t want to go either. The recollection of the searing but short-lived kiss you’d shared with Neteyam made an appearance again in your mind. You wanted to explore that further… By Eywa, you didn’t think you’d object to kissing Lo’ak either…

Like his older brother, Lo’ak too was dressed simply. Neteyam had risen to his feet next to him and they made an incredibly handsome pair. You could absolutely understand why the other women lusted after them. After all, you were hardly innocent of that crime. Your long-standing attraction to Neteyam had ensured that.

“No, I’ll- I’ll stay.” You resolved, “I don’t want to be the only one who’s left out of the loop.”

The two brothers shared a look that you couldn’t decipher the meaning of. It was a glance between them with fairly neutral expressions, but you did see the slight upturn of their lips.

“Where’d you even get those things anyway?” You questioned. You knew that with their mixed heritage and with Jake originating from the humans’ side, that there were many tools and instruments that the olo’eyktan had adopted for use in the clan. However, you could hardly imagine the olo’eyktan openly bringing in sex toys for the clan’s wider use.

“Spider.” Neteyam supplied with a fond laugh, “He’s got quite the knack for sourcing and supplying us with contraband under the radar from the avatar camp.”

You giggled at the thought of Spider. You liked the human. He lived majority of his life amongst the Omatikaya with the Sullys anyway, so despite his foreign form, he was very much Na’vi at heart.

There was one last set of drapes in a corner by the toy chest which caught your eye. It was the only partitioned section of the outpost that you hadn’t yet explored. Ambling towards it you murmured, “What’s behind here? More of the same?”

Neteyam and Lo’ak watched you approach the last partition, knowing full well that what was behind the draperies was not simply more of the same. The last pair of drapes led into their main play area. Quietly they awaited your reaction and sure enough it came soon after in the form of a soft gasp.

They’d built a large, raised bedframe in there and on it sat a thick bedding mat swathed in silken fabric. The bed was sizeable enough to sleep several adults and piles of plush cushions and rolls lined one end of it. The other main feature of the play area, which was also courtesy of Spider, was a large mirror that ran along one entire wall.

You’d never seen anything like it. The gigantic bed was one thing, but the strange pane of whatever it was that spanned the entirety of the opposite wall was breathtaking. You had never seen your own reflection so clearly in your life, save for the completely still water of a puddle after heavy rain, and even that was a far cry from this. Mesmerised, you approached the large pane until you were standing right before it.

“It’s called a mirror.” Lo’ak’s deep timbre sounded.

You’d been so entranced by your reflection that you hadn’t noticed the two brothers enter the space behind you. They flanked you now, one on either side.

“It’s amazing.” You breathed in astonishment. Your fingertips met its cool and solid surface and you marvelled at the clarity of it, “Everything is so clear. It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you are, paskalin.” Neteyam’s words elicited another intake of breath from you and your amber eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror.

Both brothers were standing very close to you, their bodies angled inward towards yours. They were close enough that a subtle shift on either side of you would cause your arms to brush their torsos. Your ears twitched as you perceived the quiet sound of their breaths and your skin prickled with the body heat you could feel exuding from their bodies.

The mirror’s reflection also allowed you to see yourself in-between them and it became apparent to you how much taller and bigger they were in stature compared to you. The top of your head only just skimmed past their chins and your lithe body was much willowier next to their more muscular physiques. The image was as arousing as it was intimidating…

Lo’ak was carefully scenting you now, in a very similar way to the way Neteyam had done the night before. He trailed a hand up your forearm and he pulled you against him to sniff at your hair. Lo’ak’s scent was different to Neteyam’s, but it was no less appealing to your feminine senses.

Through the reflection you saw Neteyam dip his head and you anticipated his action moments before you felt the scorching heat of an open-mouthed kiss against the other side of your neck. Your next inhale was a quivering rush of air into your lungs and your heart began to pound with want.

Leaving a trail of nips up your neck to your jaw, Neteyam paused to purr by your ear, “This is a place where people come to feel good and surrender to pleasure. Rank doesn’t matter here and you leave the outside world at the door. You set the boundaries, paskalin, but if you stay tonight then you must also promise to trust us.”

You turned your head towards him, chasing Neteyam’s lips with your own, yearning to taste him again. But he pulled away with a roguish smirk that promised your patience would be rewarded if you waited.

Your reply was a breathy whimper, “Yes.”

“Is there anywhere you don’t want to be touched?” Lo’ak murmured, the fingers of one hand tickling your hip while its twin splayed flat against the small of your back.

“No, it’s all fine.” Your chest heaved with your deepening breaths, every nerve ending hyperaware and hypersensitive in the waking dawn of your arousal.

Lo’ak’s answering grin was lascivious and the hand at your back pulled the tied knot of your chest-covering free. The garment shifted as it loosened, the beads scraping over your stiffening nipples. Neteyam was quick to undo the last tie of the garment behind your neck, and with a gentle swish it fell from your body entirely, leaving you exposed.

A harsh groan sounded from Neteyam and he cupped one of your breasts, letting his thumb flick over its hard peak, “Eywa, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted touch you like this. Every time your covering shifted at work, every little peek I was afforded when it slipped momentarily, it was torturous.”

Neteyam had been looking at your breasts?... The sentiment was an exciting surprise to you and you leaned into the agonising brush of his fingers over your nipple.

Lo’ak joined his brother, stroking and fondling your other breast, “You’ve got such pretty nipples, and Eywa, they love being touched.”

A stifled moan left you as pleasure shot straight to your core from the stimulation. Your head lolled onto Neteyam’s shoulder and he clasped your chin to angle it the right way so he could reward you with a passionate kiss. You felt him snake a hand down your front, the heat of his palm blazing past your navel to travel even lower. You jolted when he cupped your crotch, his fingers deftly finding the outline of your clitoris and rolling against it.

Neteyam broke away and the absence of his mouth allowed a desirous whine to escape you. He posed another question to you, “How much do you want from us tonight?”

You were dizzy with desire and your core pulsed with liquid heat. You gave another ragged moan when Lo’ak knelt down to capture one nipple in his mouth. Your eyes flicked forward to the wanton reflection before you; one brother suckling on your breast, the other with a hand buried between your thighs while he watched you. The press of their bodies against yours was delicious and you could see matching erections straining behind their loincloths in the reflection.

Your decision came to you undeniably, and you abandoned all your inhibitions in the heat of the pleasure you were experiencing, “I want everything. I want you both to fuck me tonight.”

Their reaction was immediate. There was a flurry of motion as both brothers moved, working in tandem to free your loincloth as well as their own. Naked now as the day you were born, every part of you screamed with want while every inch of your bare skin was pressed up and imprisoned between two aroused male bodies.

You were turned and facing Lo’ak now and you could feel his hard erection throbbing between the press of your torsos. He claimed your lips in a full but brief kiss and then said, “You know, if we’d known that all it would take to get you here was a private session with us, we would’ve done this sooner.”

“You’re incorrigible.” You retorted with a chuckle.

“Shall we move to the bed?” Neteyam suggested hoarsely, “I’m rather impatient to explore you, paskalin.”

“No wait,” You stopped him. You looked into the mirror again, rather enjoying the wide and unimpeded view it gave you of the whole space. Both Neteyam and Lo’ak were gorgeous to look upon and you wanted to enjoy the vision of their imposing frames while they were standing. “I want to enjoy looking at you both like this first.”

Facing the mirror front on with the brothers on a slight angle, your eyes tracked from the top of the pane downward. They were both panting lightly and their pupils were dilated wide with lust in their beautiful faces. Broad shoulders and muscular chests were followed by powerful abdominals that tapered to their slim hips and strong legs. But of course, the two things your attention snapped back to, once your eyes had reached their feet, were their impressive erections.

Biting your bottom lip and feeling frisky, you encircled each of their cocks in your grasp, one in each hand. They were both strapping men, so it didn’t surprise you that they were proportionate in this department too. Simultaneous grunts came from them both when you began a slow squeeze and stroke. Great Mother, they were gorgeous here too… long and girthy, hot skin over rigid hardness that made your pussy clench in yearning…

Lowering yourself to your knees, you peered up at them both while you continued your pumping rhythm over their lengths. You could see they were enjoying themselves, their abs flexing and contracting with their pleasure.

Turning your face towards Neteyam, you held his eyes as you parted your mouth and licked a slow stripe up his cock and over the head of it. His hips jerked involuntarily, a hiss whistling from between his gritted teeth. When your next move was to take his cock into your mouth and suck most of the way down, his response was a strangled cry. It took some effort and co-ordination on your part, but you conscientiously bobbed and sucked while still stroking Lo’ak as well.

“Fuck, you look and feel so good.” Neteyam droned, panting through an open mouth as his face contorted and moved through a series of expressions, all of which spoke to his immense enjoyment.

Lo’ak’s hips were thrusting lightly, pushing and pulling his hard flesh in a delicious glide through your grasp. He would let out the occasional whimper, which mingled sensually with Neteyam’s unrestrained groans. Lo’ak gave a small whine shortly after and you gently drew off Neteyam’s cock with a small pop, licking your lips.

You turned to the younger brother and grinned coyly at him, “I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Lo’ak’s deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and he cocked his head at you with a wink, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let you forget about me anyway.”

The higher-pitched whine that then followed when you did take his cock into your mouth was a very stimulating contrast of sound.

Neteyam was shifting behind you and you felt him pat the inside of your leg lightly, “Part your legs a little for me.”

Still pleasuring Lo’ak, you multi-tasked and did as you were told. Out of the corner of your eye in the mirror, you saw that Neteyam had moved to lie on his back and had shimmied his head and shoulders between your knees.

Having a bird’s-eye view of the situation and understanding his brother’s intent, Lo’ak smirked and looked down to meet your eyes where you continued to suck him off, “You’re in for a treat, sweet thing.”

Neteyam’s firm hands gripped your hips to lower you slightly towards him. You could feel his breaths puffing gently against your pussy, which you knew was slick with your arousal. The rasp of his tongue against your folds and up to your clit was like a bolt of lightning to your core and you jumped, choking on Lo’ak’s cock when your body failed to co-ordinate your inhale of air with the bob of your head.

The assault that Neteyam began on your core was rapturous. He alternated between broad licks and swipes of his tongue and nose, and intent suckling on your clit. Lo’ak had withdrawn himself from your mouth, settling for stroking himself instead while he enjoyed the view of you squirming over his brother’s face. Leaning forward to place your hands on the ground, you rocked your hips, smoothing your core over Neteyam’s face. Breathy whimpers were coming from you as you neared your climax, but just as it was within your reach, his grip on your hips shifted and he lifted you upward from him to sit up.

“W-Wait no!” You squealed as your bottom plopped onto the ground beneath you, “Why’d you stop?!”

“Shh sorry, paskalin.” Neteyam soothed, cleaning his face off on the back of his wrist and swooping in to kiss you, “We’ll take care of you later, promise. We’re just building you up first. It’ll be worth it. Trust us, yeah?”

Chortling at the wounded expression of disappointment on your face, Neteyam got to his feet before reaching down to pull you up to your own. Your legs were unsteady, but it didn’t matter as he bent to scoop you into his arms next and carried you onto the large bed. Lo’ak had momentarily disappeared from view, but when he reappeared with three colourful implements in hand, you understood the reason for his disappearance. The sex toys.

You felt like you were burning up as you lay on the soft bedding. The heat was like molten pleasure through your veins. The tips of your nipples tingled and your pussy ached to be touched again. Lo’ak returned to join you on the bed and he handed the toys to Neteyam.

Coaxing you to sit up, Lo’ak moved to sit behind you with his legs spread so you could lean back against him. Pressing a kiss to the side of your face, Lo’ak whispered, “How about we give my brother a bit of a show, hmm? He likes to watch. It really gets him going for later.”

You looked at Neteyam, who had perched himself at the end of the bed facing you both. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, almost as if he’d heard what Lo’ak had whispered to you and thoroughly agreed with the idea. You felt Lo’ak’s hands snake under your knees and he proceeded to then hitch them up towards your torso, leaving you splayed wide in exhibition before Neteyam who merely smirked.

Neteyam crawled closer, a couple of toys in hand. You recognised the blue one from before, but there was another strange gold coloured implement you didn’t recognise. You frowned at it warily and your body stiffened as you tried to sit more upright, “What does that do?”

“It’s a suction toy. It goes over your clit.” Neteyam explained while Lo’ak soothed your nerves with some gentle hushing. Stroking a hand over one of your parted thighs, Neteyam reassured you, “If you’re not enjoying it, let me know and we can stop, OK?”

Relaxing back into the position Lo’ak had put you in against him, you nodded in consent. At this moment, you really just wanted to be touched again.

As if hearing your thoughts, Lo’ak’s hands shifted to your breasts, caressing the soft flesh and toying with your nipples again. Your back arched into his hands and he chuckled by your ear. You felt Neteyam place the gold toy carefully between your legs, adjusting it so he nestled neatly against your tingling clit.

With a few clicks, the toy whirred to life and your eyes flew open wide at the new sensation. It was like a pleasant and rhythmic series of tapping against you, and as Neteyam increased the intensity of it, the taps got faster and faster until it all melded into an incredible humming sensation with a delightful suction to it.

“O-Ohhh,”You sighed, your eyes sliding shut as you concentrated on the pulsing pleasure. The pleasure settled into a delightful tempo of rhythmic contractions that made your thighs quiver in Lo’ak’s hold. It was nothing like you’d ever experienced. You’d pleasured yourself and been pleasured by men before, but this was something else…

“That’s it, paskalin, just lean into it. Feel for the rhythm of it.” Neteyam coaxed, watching keenly as the muscles in your pussy began to visibly throb and squeeze. His next words were a profane curse as he palmed his straining erection with his free hand. He badly wanted to have your pussy throbbing and squeezing around his cock like that… not yet, but soon…

Lo’ak was watching through the mirror’s reflection, thoroughly enjoying the view of you whilst also relishing the way you were writhing against him with mewls and sighs. His gaze lifted to lock with his older brother’s and he grinned when you your moans began to intensify, “Let’s see what we can make of her, bro.”

Thoroughly absorbed by the building waves of ecstasy that wracked your core, you didn’t even register that Lo’ak had said anything. The bliss was unreal. You felt the smooth blunt tip of something prod at your entrance and you cracked open a lid to see Neteyam running the blue vibrator through your folds. He was watching you carefully for any sign of objection and when you didn’t give him any, he breached you slowly but surely with it.

A hoarse groan tore from your throat at the satisfying addition that filled your pussy. The pulsing and clenching between your legs intensified and just when you thought things couldn’t feel any better, Neteyam switched the vibrator on and it began to hum inside you too. Your jaw was slack and you could feel your face was contorted into a grimace of pleasure.

Neteyam began to pump the vibrator in and out in a mimicry of thrusting, and your hands flew to clutch at Lo’ak’s thighs beside you. You were only half-aware of yourself, your body suspended in what felt like a never-ending loop of thrumming ecstasy that was speeding you towards an inevitable orgasm that would tear you apart. Something else was building too amid the throbbing of your core. There was a pressure increasing behind your pelvis with each terribly torturous thrust of the vibrator within you.

The throaty sounds you were emitting now were making it very challenging for the two brothers, whose own lust had skyrocketed in the last while as they’d watched you. Both hands occupied with pleasuring you, Neteyam was caught in a cruel contradiction between wanting to see you through and also wanting to touch himself to ease some of the pressure. Meanwhile, Lo’ak was canting his hips against your lower back to find whatever friction he could.

You were so close, teetering on the precipice of blessed oblivion, but you needed more…

You squirmed, trying to shift in Lo’ak’s hold where he had a firm grip on you behind your knees, straining to reach your climax. Your speech was a stutter, your panting breaths punctuated with by whimpers, “P-Please, I want to- I need-”

“What do you need, paskalin?” Neteyam asked, swallowing the saliva that was rapidly pooling in his cheeks at the shameless sight of you, almost completely undone under what his hands were doing to you.

“Please, one of you, just fuck me already!”

There was an immediate halt in the unforgiving pleasure that had assailed you as Neteyam haphazardly flung the toys aside, crawling on all fours to reach you. However, Lo’ak was faster.

The younger brother had shifted you to lie on your side while he stretched out alongside you with your back against his front. He’d hoisted one of your legs upward bent at the knee to splay you, his hard cock poised to enter you.

Hisses and growls filled the air suddenly, startling you somewhat out of your lust-filled haze. You peered through foggy eyes to see Neteyam knelt on your right, his nose wrinkled and teeth on display in an aggressive snarl at his brother, who you could hear hissing in return by your ear.

Lo’ak let out a glacial laugh, “Don’t be like this, bro. We’ve been through this before.”

Neteyam’s response was a harsh growl and his ears were pinned flat to his skull.

Not wanting any animosity between the two brothers, you attempted to mollify them, “Hey, don’t fight, what’s wrong-”

An unimpressed scoff sounded from Lo’ak and he tightened his hold around you, “I know my brother, sweet thing. He won’t let me have you once he’s gotten his hands on you. See, you’re not the only one here who doesn’t like to share.”

Neteyam scowled but he didn’t disprove his brother’s assessment. With a resigned growl like thunder in his chest, he appeared to acquiesce so long as Lo’ak abided by one demand, “Fine, but don’t cum inside her. She’s mine.”

You saw a gleam of possession in Neteyam’s eyes and heard the covetousness in his voice. It was such outlandish behaviour from him, considering you were so accustomed to his usually placid demeanour, but his jealousy was thrilling to you. He lowered himself onto his side in front of you, propping his head up on one elbow to watch.

A shudder rippled through you when you felt Lo’ak glide his cock against your slippery entrance. You felt him reach between you to position himself and he penetrated you with a sharp thrust. Your cry of pleasure was a croaky moan that sounded in time with Lo’ak’s guttural groan of satisfaction as your walls clenched tight around his length. Your pussy fluttered around the width of him and you revelled in the delightful stretch of the feeling. Definitely bigger than the blue vibrator that had been there before…

Lo’ak set a punishing pace of thrusts and your breaths punched out of you with each one as his hips collided with yours. Through half-lidded eyes, you noted that Neteyam was surveying the pair of you with a rather tetchy countenance. Reaching out to him with the hand you weren’t lying on, you caressed his cheek, beckoning him to kiss you. You were enjoying being railed by Lo’ak, but you still wanted Neteyam too.

Neteyam indulged you and you moaned into his mouth while his tongue and lips swept against yours. The pressure at your core was mounting rapidly again and Lo’ak’s uninhibited moans, as he took his pleasure from your body, only served to spur your pleasure onward.

Through the moist melding of your lips with Neteyam’s, you took his wrist and purred a request to him, “Touch me, Neteyam.”

His fingers found the swollen nub at the apex of your thighs and he began to press and circle it in an insistent rub. Your head flopped back against Lo’ak while you whined in bliss at the addition of Neteyam’s actions.

The nagging pressure in your pelvis returned along with the burn and pulse of your pussy. You could see your anticipated ecstasy within reach, but the pressure behind your pubic bone was increasing with each of Lo’ak’s hard thrusts. It felt like an urgent and insistent need to relieve yourself all of a sudden, and it alarmed you…

Eyes flying wide, you tried to shift in Lo’ak’s hold to stop him, ““W-Wait, I need to-”

Neteyam silenced you with a kiss and he hushed you softly, “Let go, paskalin. I know it feels strange, but just go with it.”

Frantic and feeling completely out of control as your orgasm loomed, you spluttered, “It feels like I’m going to wet myself!”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes flick to his brother behind you and they must have shared a meaningful look, for instead of slowing down or being gentler, Lo’ak added a swivel to the trajectory of his hips and Neteyam’s fingers persisted in their massage against your clit.

“Let go, trust me.” Neteyam breathed over you, “Come on, Neyomi.”

You didn’t know if it was the way he’d purred your given name, or if it was just a coincidence of timing and you couldn’t bear it any longer, but you succumbed to the tidal wave of pleasure and allowed it to consume you. A piercing scream ripped from you upon the initial wave. Your entire body went rigid and your pussy contracted intensely, pushing several spurts of fluid from between your legs. You were only dimly aware of the wetness you were emitting as you enjoyed the fleeting weightlessness of your powerful climax.

“Ah, fuck!” Lo’ak pulled free of you with a guttural shout to spill outside of you and over your taut belly and hips as your orgasm has triggered his own.

His breathing was ragged now whilst he came down from his own high and with a wary glance at Neteyam, he leaned over to steal a sloppy kiss from your parted lips, which you returned with a soft moan. He rolled away then onto his back, knowing that his brother would want his time with you now.

The keenness of your senses were slowly returning to you as you recovered from the explosive sensations you’d just experienced. All too aware now of the dampness on the bedspread beneath you, your hands flew to your face in embarrassment. What the fuck happened?... It had felt so amazing, but you’d wet yourself at the end of it…

“Great Mother, I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess.” You murmured through your fingers and you scooted up the bed into a sitting position, looking mortified at the drenched patches on the bedding.

Neteyam’s husky laugh was an unexpected reaction and your round eyes regarded him in bewilderment. Even Lo’ak was chuckling away where he lay relaxing with an arm thrown over his eyes.

Neteyam pulled gently at your hands, “Look at me. You haven’t wet yourself, alright?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What you just experienced was a squirt. It doesn’t happen all the time, but it can happen with intense orgasms from rigorous stimulation.” Neteyam explained mildly, before he graced you with a devious smirk, “It was extremely arousing to witness, paskalin.”

The deepening growl of his tone set shivers tingling down your spine again and your eyes dropped to the still prominent erection in his lap. That’s right, you asked to be fucked by two brothers tonight… one down, one more to go… and this was the one your blood seemed to sing for; that your heart leapt for whenever you saw him…

You knew your skin was already flushed from the earlier activities, but you felt renewed heat tinge your cheeks as Neteyam pushed onto his knees to shuffle closer to you again. Sitting before his kneeling form, you were just at the right height to take hold of his cock. Stroking it gingerly, you placed a shy kiss on its tip and lifted your eyes to meet Neteyam’s as he stared down at you. Great Mother, you felt your pussy squeeze again at the expression he wore, which was masculine possessiveness in the best kind of way…

“Don’t get shy on me now. I’m not done with you yet.” He hissed, grimacing as you began the luscious suck and bob of your head over his swollen length, “That all you got for me? You were choking on my brother’s cock earlier.”

Lifting your gaze to his again at his goading, you perceived a familiar warmth swirling behind the covetousness in his eyes, and something warm unfurled in your chest. Neteyam’s words had been taunting, but you could see he was just teasing you. You doubled down on your effort anyway, savouring the titillating feeling of his throbbing cock in your mouth while he groaned openly.

An unexpected click and rumbling buzz caught you unawares and you stilled. You felt the bed sink a little behind you and you realised that Lo’ak had moved to place something next to you on the bed. Drawing your lips up and off Neteyam’s length, you picked up the purple wand toy you’d seen in the chest before. It rumbled temptingly in your grip and you instinctively look at Neteyam for instruction.

“On your hands and knees, but keep facing me.” He directed, “My brother can help with this toy.”

Once again, you did as you were instructed and you redirected your attention to Neteyam’s hard flesh, returning it to the moist confines of your mouth. You’d always enjoyed giving blowjobs. Men were beautiful creatures, especially the one before you now, with all his formidable strength and taut muscle. You’d always found giving them pleasure a turn-on.

You jumped when the rumbling vibrations of the wand toy skimmed up the inside of one of your thighs, drifting dangerously close to your core before it was moved away. It repeated a similar path up the inside of your other thigh before trailing downward yet again. The vibrating tip of it began its ascent again and this time you canted your hips towards it, earning a dark chuckle from Lo’ak who was clearly enjoying teasing you.

Deciding not to be cruel, Lo’ak pressed the bulbous head of the wand against your core and began to stroke it back and forth over you. Your throaty groan of pleasure was muffled and Neteyam thought to himself how alluring you looked with your eyes rolling back while your mouth was full of him. It was an image straight out of his erotic fantasies of you…

Rocking to and fro as you sucked, the delicious rumbles of the wand were deep against your sensitive flesh and your clit was throbbing under the onslaught. You could taste Neteyam’s pre-cum on your tongue and his hands had framed your face, stroking your hollowed cheeks while he slurred pledges to you of how beautiful you looked.

Lo’ak was afford an unimpeded view of your rear and your pussy, your tail curled up and away in an erotic display. He could tell from the twitching throb and clench of your muscles that your second orgasm was not far away. “She’s close, bro.”

You whimpered as Neteyam extracted himself from your mouth at his brother’s report and he bent to whisper in your ear, “I’m going to fuck you now, paskalin. Do you want me to take you from behind or do you want me to face you?”

“I want to kiss you.” Your response was not quite a direct answer to his question, but it was telling enough for Neteyam to make his decision. Grasping you under your underarms, he hauled you upright onto your knees before he toppled you onto your back against the plush cushions.

Pinning you under the delightful heaviness of his muscular physique, you parted your thighs to cradle his slim hips as he positioned himself where he needed to be.

Neteyam’s handsome face was wicked and he paused to purr a filthy promise to you, “You’re going to remember me like this. Every day at work and every night in your dreams, you’re going to remember the feel of my cock inside you as I fuck you.”

Oh Eywa your work days… It was going to be a test of your composure not to let your very unprofessional behaviour not colour your professional conduct with him…

Like with his brother before, the burning stretch to fullness of him as Neteyam pushed inside you was incredibly satisfying, but it was more intimate face-to-face like this. You could watch his every expression like this as he began to thrust; his eyelids were heavy; his lips were parted, and a variation of higher-pitched whimpers and low groans were falling from him.

For Neteyam, your wet heat clutching at his cock was a staggering sensation. He felt his length throb in gratification as your pussy squeezed around him. After watching his brother fuck you and then having to wait his own turn, his own orgasm was racing towards him at a much quicker pace than he anticipated. He wanted to wring another climax from you first though…

Remembering that you’d expressed a desire to kiss him, Neteyam lowered himself onto his elbows so your front was flush with his and only his hips were canting back and forth. Nuzzling your cheek tenderly, he sealed his mouth over yours in a fervent kiss that stole your breath from you.

The hardness of his pubic bone rocked over your clit with each of his thrusts in this position, and each press of his body against yours brought you one step closer to ecstasy. These ‘steps’ weren’t a slow stroll either, they were more like a hurtling sprint. The familiar pressure within your pelvis started up again, but this time it didn’t alarm you. Every piston of Neteyam’s hips was hitting a pleasurable spot inside you that acted like a pump, building the pressure and winding it tighter and tighter.

Neteyam distractedly wondered to himself how Lo’ak had held out for as long as he did when he’d fucked you. Your core was a slippery vise around him, every thrust working his swollen cock from root to tip. His head was buried by the side of your face now as he groaned and panted. Your own cries were getting louder now, to his relief. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last…

“Fuck, paskalin, you’re driving me insane. I’m so close.” He grunted.

“Same. Keep going.” You kissed him again.

When the surge of ecstasy washed over you a second time, you relinquished your control and the pressure in your pelvis snapped with another orgasmic squirt. With your thighs cradling Neteyam’s hips and your arms raking his back, you felt him stiffen with his own climax, his thrusting becoming erratic as he roared his pleasure into the cushion under your head. A viscous heat seeped out from your core where you were still joined, a sensation that had been absent before with Lo’ak, which you now recognised was the evidence of Neteyam’s orgasm.

Adjusting himself so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight, Neteyam rolled onto his side. He tittered naughtily then and his grin was smug, “I told you I’d make you come. Welcome to the love shack.”

Recalling your foot-in-mouth innuendo from the previous night, you rolled your eyes and giggled, “Great Mother, who would’ve guessed that underneath the well-mannered gentleman that you’re such a wild beast.”

Warm skin enveloped your other side as Lo’ak shifted closer to join you, throwing a leg over one of yours and tangling you to him. He murmured by your temple when he placed a kiss there, “Think you’ll swing by again, sweet thing?”

Tilting your head back and craning your neck upward, you gave Lo’ak a deep kiss before turning to do the same to Neteyam, “Only if I can have you both to myself again.”

Lo’ak smirked, bending to kiss and nip at a gradually peaking nipple while Neteyam ran a hot hand down your torso to slip his fingers through your folds, slick with a combination of your own wetness and his seed. You could feel their cocks hardening again where they were pressed to either side of your hips.

By Eywa, stamina as well as skill? No wonder the women kept returning…

Neteyam eyed you and his response was a salacious murmur, “I believe that can be arranged, paskalin.”

PART III - Blurring Lines HERE

***~~~***

Author's Note: I'm quite sure this is filthiest piece I've ever written... 🫣I don't know how I pulled almost 7.5k of sexy stuff out of my brain, but I hope you all FELT this in all the right ways and all the right places... Three cheers for our two boys Neteyam & Lo'ak!! Woot woot! Thanks for reading this! Leave me a comment, I'd love to hear from you and thanks for all your likes and reblogs too! 😘

[syrma-sensei]

Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.5: A Man's Property.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Setting: In the early 80s.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, prostitution, misogyny, power imbalance...

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

When you return to what you call home, you don't expect to get hugged and patted on the back. You don't need either. You just want to be alone and cry in your bed in the seclusion your room provided, wherein you let yourself drown in self pity and bitter heartache. To be in utter bemusement is an understatement; you're still processing the fact that the reason for the shitty life you live is him, and he doesn't fucking regret it. He takes pride in it. You know that much. Sure, he stopped the villains, and saved the country from what they might have inflicted on people, but he seemed to forget what he inflicted upon you and the victims of that incident. He fucking called your brother an obstacle, as if he were a speck of dust.

Your brother was on him. His blood is on Ben's hands, not the culprits'.

You feel bitter bile rolling up your throat. You choke both on it and your tears. Your sniffles are weak and pathetic. Your heart wrings with guilt and self-hatred, for you could still feel him inside of you, for you could feel the sweetness of his touch on you, for you could feel your heart ache for and because of him.

You pull your hair and let out a strangled wail. He fucked you, he claimed you; body, heart, and soul. Your heart is torn between beating for him and being beat because of him.

In one moment he is everything, and in another he's nothing. You love him, you hate him. You want him, you loathe him. Your body ripples with love, hate, sweetness, and bitterness.

You want him in ways you never wanted someone before, your heart raves on for him.

“I won't let anyone take you from me. You have my word for that.”

But his deeds did. He fucking broke his promise before he even made it.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

They're all liars.

They said the criminals killed your brother and set the building on fire. But it was Soldier Boy's order. Jack promised to make you a star, instead he turned you into his bitch. Ben promised to make you his, thus far, you're not sure you don't want him to be lying in the matter, you don't want to be his anymore.

You utter expletives in a hissing voice.

You were an idiot.

You opened your heart for the wrong man. You should've known better than that. Jack warned you about this before, about meddling business with please, about thawing within the inkling of the heart and brains.

You feel a heavy weight encumbering your chest as your heart warps in bitterness.

In your throes of dismay, you curse yourself and your heart for falling for him. You should've never flirted with him at Sonia Vogelbaumm’s wedding. You shouldn't have agreed to sing along with him. You shouldn't have been claimed by him. You shouldn't have heard what you heard. You shouldn't have dug after it and found out the truth; the one who owns your heart is the cause of your misery.

It's been two days since you left Herogasm without a word. You expected he'd come after you and conciliate you, or so you hoped. You assumed you'd get fired from Vought, or so you wished. You don't want to see him again, because you know… you know your heart will betray you and seek the one it throbs for.

Ben ruined you, and for good. It dithers you that you still want him in the deepest of your depth.

You flinch when you feel a hand perch on your shoulder, “Wake up, (Y/N)...” You hear glee in Jack's voice. You groan, stirring in the sheets, then you sit up with an ache both in your head and heart.

You haven't seen him in days, and to say you're not keen on seeing him now, is an understatement. You're in a mess. He won't like it; you just ruined his business with Vought. You're sure he'll wail on you for that.

However, and for some reason, you don't like the bizarre grin on his face as he sits next to you, the remote control of your small T.V. is in his hand. He turns it on and your eyes dilate as you listen to your own voice emanating from it.

Your heart plummets to your toes. Vought dropped the cover song and it's now on every channel. That means one thing…

“The Legend just called…” Jack interrupts your trail of thought.

“What’d he say?” You rub the dried tears from your eyes. Your heart paces up. “He said your collaboration with Soldier Boy has been called off for bad reviews.” You wished he would tell you that. But instead.

“They want you as Soldier Boy's new love interest.”

You gulp hard.

You're doomed.

When you bailed on him at Herogasm two nights ago, he left no stone unturned looking for you. One moment you were dozing off in the bed you two shared, the other one you weren't. You were just gone. It drove him crazy. The fact you disappeared after the promise he made you. How dare you, he simmered with fury; he took his frustration on the guy next to him. The scapegoat was Tommy. He wailed on the kid until Tessa begged for her twin brother's life.

When the word that you went home reached his ears, he received it in a cold bitterness. His face didn't mirror the way his heart was raging and huddling in the mess in his chest. That bitch. He thought with revulsion. You played him like a fucking stupid puppet. And here he thought he shared something real with. He scoffed. You're a complete hypocrite, a tremendous actress (just like himself) and a whore.

He feels like a jackass for being played like that. A fucking pussy. That's what he was; he let his emotions take control for one second and it brought him no good, it only dumped a mess on both his head and his heart.

She's gonna pay. He promised himself. No bitch can do him dirty and get away with it. He's going to turn your life into a living hell.

Now, with a smirk adorning his lips, he watches you and himself on the T.V. singing Just The Two Of Us. He grins at the applause you two earned. Everyone's questioning whether you two are together or not. The chemistry you two share is hypnotic. Every famous channel is raging with his and your pictures, wondering if there's a chance that he left Countess for you. His fans are keen on knowing it, obsessing over his scoop comment.

“Gotta say, she does look pretty at your side.” Legend comments from behind him, “I underestimated her.”

Ben chuckles, “She is a firecracker that one,” And she sets flames in my heart.

“People are gonna love you two together.” Legend drops another remark, “I talked to her manager…” Ben's molars grit, “He’s more than open to the idea…”

“Good.” Ben replies curtly.

That manager needs to be off the picture, and soon. He'll see to it.

Of course, he will omit Jack out of the way. When he's subtly removed, you'll have nowhere to turn to but him. You'll have nobody but him.

“A non-supe lass is the new sweetheart of Soldier Boy. I tell ya, it'll be all the rage in no time.”

“Oh, that I know.” Ben grins, taking a gulp from his drink, befor he adds, “Speaking of which, that fuckface should be out of the way.”

“It’s not gonna be easy,” Legend sighs, “The leash he has on her is too—Ugh!”

With the dexterity and swiftness of a tiger, Ben curls a stiff hand around Legend’s neck. “She’s no longer his bitch. She's mine.” Ben seethes, “And you'll see to it or I'll take it into my own hands and do it myself.”

Legend's eyes flutter as he chokes, “Y-Yes…”

“Good…” Ben unclasps his grip from the man's neck. Legend collapses on his knees, breathing heavily.

Legend considers the option and he opts to carry on Soldier Boy's wishes, because it's always easier to fire a man than covering up for his death.

Your pleas and begging go on deaf ears.

Jack practically has to drag you to Vought's tower to offer you on a golden plate for them and him.

“Please… I'll do anything you want,” You try to reason with him, “Just don't let him have me.”

“I’m sorry, doll, but your price has already been paid.” Jack snarls. Clearly, you're playing with fire, “Now, be a good slut and do as you're told, like you always do.”

As you two make it to the main gates of the tower, you dig your heels into the marble. “Please, you don't understand—!”

His hand is quick to smack tingles in your cheek. People passing by, leering at your scene, some of them exchange looks and most of them just… ignore you.

“You will listen to me, you ungrateful bitch!” Jack growls, “I gave you everything when you had nothing. I absolve you from being a cheap hooker who solicits on the streets. You owe me!” He grumbles, nostrils flaring, “You’ll be my bitch until you repay me my troubles, you hear me?!” He clutches your hair and pulls you down, making you wince.

“Security!” A woman's calls.

And in a minute, two guards wrap their arms around Jack's shoulders and unlatch him from you.

You're in a quivering mess on the floor whereas Jack tries to tug himself off of the guards as they lead him out of the building.

“There’s been a mistake,” He chuckles nervously, “I’m Ms. (Y/N)’s manager. I'm The Legend's friend.”

Just like your words hold no value to him, his don't to them.

You watch Jack kicking his feet and screaming as they throw him out of the gates. Through your tears, you allow yourself your lips to crack a small smile of victory. You allow yourself to let the wound Jack has been leaching on for years to breathe.

Just before it's muffled by Soldier Boy in the next second.

You grimace a tad as the liquid you're swallowing burns your throat, eyes occasionally flitting up and down at him. He hasn't uttered a word since you've been brought to him, which you can't interpret as a good or bad thing. He just stares at you with blank eyes, as if waiting for you to start. But you don't.

“Why?” He says, voice a bit bitter.

“Why what?” You hoarse.

“You know what.” He grumbles.

Of course you know why. Why did you dump me in a fucking orgy? He wants to say, but doesn't. He just fucking stares and it agonizes you. Your eyes brim with tears but you choke on them, locking them in. You don't want him to see you crying. You don't want to be weak facing him. You did once, and look what that got you.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” There's a venomous hint at your tone, but soon enough, the tough façade cracks when he pounces forwards in your direction. His hands clasp on your forearms, fingers wringing your tender flesh.

“Don’t give that shit, woman!” He barks, anger searing in his green eyes like Greek fire, “Why did you bounce on me that night? I demand to know.”

“You don't get to demand anything from me, Benjamin,” You seeth, “That night was a mistake.”

Ben's face falters a bit. A mistake? The promises you two made were just sleazy words that meant nothing? He doesn't believe that. He won't. He can't.

His hands squeeze deeper into your skin and you moan in pain.

“So you want to be that ass fuck’s whore your entire life?”

That's when you deliver a hard slap against his cheek. You instantly regret it; your wrist almost snaps in two from the smack. What's this man made of? Steel?!

You hold your hand closer to your chest, the pain pounding in your joint. But another pain ripples through you as he pulls at your hair backwards, exposing your neck.

“You will learn to show some respect, or I'll snap you pretty neck, understand?”

Tears roll down your cheeks. He's just like Jack. It's the same shit, but a different man. You escaped from hell to another inferno. As an attempt to win his mercy, you give him a nod and a pained moan.

“Please…” You whimper.

“Please, what?”

“Please, sir.”

“Good girl.” He lets you go.

You gasp when you're free of his grasp, shivering at the way he's ogling you.

“Now, I'll ask you again,” He enunciates, “Why did you leave Herogasm that night?”

Because you're my brother's murderer, you piece of shit. You want to say, but instead you answer, “I was overwhelmed; it's not regular for one to witness a supe orgy everyday.”

He smacks his lips, not satisfied with your answer, “You think I'm stupid, dollface?” He quirks a brow, and suddenly comes upon you how handsome he is. Whoever suggested covering his face with a helmet was an idiot.

“No!”

“Then, tell me!” He seethes and you cower backwards which makes him stop. He won't have looking at him the way you look at that fuck. He sneers at himself. Great. His resolve to make your life a living hell is decaying by every second. The tears in your eyes are like acid on his heart.

Ben sighs in defeat, then asks you, more softly this time, “Did anyone mistreat you that you left?”

You shake your head.

Lying. Again.

Ben lets out another sigh.

“Anywho,” His voice regains its stoic rasp, “You’re no longer his,” He speaks, “You’re not Vought’s either.”

He sees something that akin to hope flicker in your eyes, “You’re my property now.”

That gleam is gone.

🦅 Previous Chapter: Unmasked.

🦅 Next Chapter: The New Famous Couple.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin, @demodemo909

@mystic-mara, @jqtaro, @pepsicolacoochie, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @prurose

@leavli, @robertthehoover, @soldiergrimes, @vanessa-boo, @uddiifiigj...

[meowzfordayz]

as if

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~600

CW: alcohol

Emergency Request Fulfilled: This year, especially this summer has been really rough and the past few days, it's kind of caught up and I've been feeling very down  and lost kind of neglected. I was wondering if you could write a drabble or something for demon slayer with a reader that has been feeling that way and with some agnst and comfort with Giyuu, Sanemi or Tengen and (if you write for him, idr if you do 😅) Ubuyashiki. Preferably romantic but platonic is fine too.

“Feeling low?”

His voice catches you off guard; an almost lyrical inflection coated by familiar gruffness, the cold bite of winter numbing his intended concern to a flat tone.

“Yeah,” you mutter, refusing to meet his lilac stare, “Something like that.”

He strides closer, bodily presence impossible to ignore. You’re certain if you glanced up that his shirt would be undone — despite the chill in the sparsely crowded tavern.

“Y’know, it isn’t healthy to mull over death alone.”

“So how do you spend your time in between missions, Shinazugawa-san?” you retort softly, waving an uninterested hand in his direction, “By all means, enlighten me.”

Laughing coolly, Sanemi drags out the chair beside you, sitting lazy and spread in its wooden seat, hazy threads of burnt jasmine and damp earth wafting toward you.

“I train. I bathe. I check in on my fellow slayers.”

Snorting lightly, you finally fix a dithering expression on his earnest gaze, nearly swallowing your quip at the faint glow in his eyes, “Ah, well, good to know you care about your personal hygiene.”

Blinking slowly, his brow furrows, arms crossing over the bareness of his chest, “You believe me?”

“Believe what?” you scoff amusedly, “I’ve never known you to justify yourself to anyone.”

Scowling, his arms cross tighter, skin aching with fatigue, “Your approval doesn’t matter to me.”

You shrug, “Okay.”

You return to your tokkuri, sake still warm as you pour yourself another cup, its sharp scent stinging your nose when you take a slow, pointed sip.

Thud.

A matching cup slams ungracefully onto the counter, taunting air thickening around you as you glare at the scarred fingers beckoning slyly. With a long exhale, you fill his cup.

“Just making small talk,” he murmurs, saccharine and smug, “I appreciate your generosity.”

“You’re terrible,” you huff, hastily downing another cup, noting the abrupt loss of weight in the tokkuri with dismay, “Shinazugawa-san, I didn’t think you drank.”

Cup pinched between his thumb and index fingertips, Sanemi sniffs carefully, face scrunching at the clean tang of fermentation. He sets the cup aside, humming in agreement.

You snap, mouth twisting frustrated and impatient, voice hushed and scathing, “Why harass me into sharing with you if you’re not even going to try it?”

“Someone died,” he replies blandly, cup lifted and tilted, alcohol gone in a single, smooth movement, “On my watch.”

Unimpressed, you resist the urge to kick the leg of his chair, knowing he’d likely block and consequently injure you instead, “So you sought out the nearest slayer to console yourself?”

“I’m not the consoling type.”

And then he touches your wrist.

It’s a fleeting, mindless gesture, and yet it extends on for forever, overflowing with consideration and contemplation, never thoughtless because it’s him. It’s Shinazugawa-san—unapproachable, distant, angry—Shinazugawa Sanemi. He doesn’t acknowledge his proximity, bumping demandingly against the back of your hand, this time reaching for the tokkuri.

“Distract?” you squeak, overly conscious of how clear your quickening pulse must sound.

“Mhm,” he nods, hoping you’re fixated enough on your own nerves to miss how delicately his are fraying too.

“You can be pretty cruel,” you sniff, dizzying chewiness in your head making it harder and harder to forget the calloused graze of his clammy heat, “Buy me a drink?”

“Whatever.”

He laughs—an abrupt, staccato laugh—nonchalantly ordering another round of your sake, all too aware of the tenderness melting the stiffness from your attention. Of the discomforting pressure in his sternum when you grin triumphantly. As if I didn’t let you win.

As if you could ever lose.

[otherworldseekers]

FFXIVwrite Day 4: Reticent

WoLNero 518 words A look into Nero's state of mind during Deltascape.

Nero had never been a reticent person. Not that he was the sort of person who wore his heart on his sleeve either. After all, there was some question about whether or not he had a heart. Emotions were a weakness he couldn’t afford if he was to realize his lofty ambitions. His thoughts, on the other hand, he shared magnanimously. Who was he to keep such genius to himself? 

It had been with some dismay when he had, in the end, started developing certain very troublesome feelings for a particular hero. The feelings themselves were one thing. The real dilemma was what to do about them. 

He had never been shy of showing his admiration where it was deserved or proposing various liaisons when he felt the need. But when he was in the Warrior of Light’s company, when he had every chance in the world to express his regard for her and take their little flirtations further, he found himself hesitating. Never before had he felt such trepidation, such fear of rejection. Nero had ever viewed failure as a necessary step toward success, a temporary setback at most. And yet the thought of her rejection had sent ice through his veins more than once. 

It wasn’t even that he thought his marked interest in her was unwanted. On the contrary, all the evidence supported the conclusion that she shared that interest and would respond positively to his advances. But sometimes evidence was misleading and he couldn’t be sure. He had never needed to be sure before. Taking risks was second nature to him. Hells, taking risks was what had got him this far. 

But still he wavered. He pondered and dithered and floundered. He failed over and over again to tell her how he felt. He felt like a craven school boy. An idiot first class. And the entire time the refrain echoed in the back of his mind: why, why, why? What precisely had reduced him to this insufferable state?

Of course he knew the answer. Had known it for years now. It was very simple. 

Nero Scaeva was completely, irrevocably, desperately in love with Severia Zetsuen. 

Once before, in his youth, he had fallen in love and had been rejected. (In hindsight, it seemed to have been utter obliviousness rather than outright rejection, but it had felt like rejection at the time.) But it had not in the end mattered to him whether the object of his affections returned them. With time the sting had dulled and the heightened emotions had faded and he would have been happy if they could comfortably be colleagues for the remainder of their lives. (And now perhaps they could.)

This time was different. Already years had passed since the first stirrings of his passion for the hero yet it had not diminished in the slightest. His ardor had only grown deeper, stronger. It mattered to him whether she felt anything for him. It mattered a great deal. 

And so he continued to hover in this intolerable limbo, cursing his own cowardice, praying for his hero to deliver him.

Thanks for reading!

[ask-good-cop-bad-cop]

"Thunder"

Benny was surprised by how long he ended up staying. Neither one of them had noticed how dark it was getting until a loud peal of thunder cracked and rumbled its way through the sky. He slumped in dismay when heavy rain swiftly followed, drumming hard on the roof. Bad Cop simply seemed surprised.

“Weren’t expecting that until early tomorrow morning.” He mused. A glance at the kitchen clock showed it was just a little after 8PM.

“I’m going to get drenched if I try to go out in that…” Benny muttered.

“You can stay until it’s over. We don’t mind.”

“Are you sure? What if it lasts all night?”

“It probably will rain all night, but the storm itself shouldn’t last more than hour. We’ll walk you to your car with our umbrella once it blows over.”

Benny blushed faintly. That was sweet of them. “Well… Okay, if it really isn’t any trouble.”

“It isn’t.”

Another loud crash of thunder nearly made Benny jump out of his skin. Bad Cop frowned slightly in concern. “Are you all right?”

“Y-yeah, just… Storms make me kind of nervous. Not really sure why.” Bad Cop blinked at him. Benny stared back. “…You like storms, don’t you.”

“Afraid so.” Bad Cop agreed. He pushed himself away from the table and got up. Benny watched with curiosity as the officer made his way into the kitchen to turn on his electric kettle.

“What are you doing?”

“My favorite way to enjoy storms is to make some tea and sit in our recliner over by the doors to watch.” Benny winced. “We’d like it if you sat with us. You’ll be perfectly safe with us. Promise.”

Benny dithered for a moment. “…Can I have cocoa instead?” He eventually asked. Bad Cop looked relieved that he didn’t outright say “no”.

“Of course. It will only take a minute.” Benny watched as Bad Cop grabbed a packet of hot cocoa mix and dumped it into a mug, then poured some of the boiling water over it. He was surprised when Bad Cop poured a little heavy cream into it as well, then made his tea, carrying them over to the recliner. He set them down on the small tea table sitting nearby. Bad Cop then sat down, making sure to leave enough room for Benny to squeeze in next to them (it was a big chair), and gave him an expectant look. Benny pushed himself out of his chair and made his way over. The thought of being so close to those glass doors during what was shaping up to be an intense storm made his anxiety flutter, but he did like the thought of cuddling with his new boyfriends. He sat down beside them, accepting his mug of cocoa when it was passed to him, and leaned against their side.

The thunder was a lot less intimidating when he had Bad Cop’s warmth soaking into him.

@coppernauts--week

[disproportionatelysculpting]

I am the God sent child,

born in a family's creed with a different view

on world than His or mine,

swinging on the lap of people who will never anew

sleeping in a house build on shaky grounds.

But I am the God sent child,

He took his time to make this world hostile for me

but He made sure to protect me from world's mischief

He carved me out of his heart and

packed all his sins in my soul

I am the God sent child,

He wanted to be pure, to be seen as holy

so I carry the weights,

walking on the path of destruction for myself

slowly.

I am the God sent child,

He pushed me down to suffer for his pain

But He forgot that what beats inside of me is his heart,

and his blood flows inside of my veins.

I am the God sent child,

And every time I fall, He feels the ache

every injury I carry, also gives Him pain

every maim on me, traces its way to Him.

I am the God sent child,

So every evening the angels paint the sky

for me, with my blood

And demons pay heed to my steps,

wanting me to become His dismay

But I am the God sent child,

Made of His heart full of sins, and Love

Every strain in my body is full of Hate

and infatuation for making this world my home

taking it's turn one by one

I am the God sent child,

warmth is the only thing I know to provide,

A shelter for strangers, A place to feel safe.

I carry His duties as crown on my head.

so, I am the God sent child

and world is my playground

And when my tears fall on the ground,

mother Earth dithers and clouds cries with me

when my voice dies down, the sky roars for me

when I need peace, the flowers bloom just for me

and Moon shines to soothe my soul

And every May fades into dust and August seeps in,

healing me a little bit, asking me to hold on

because I am the God sent child

when I screamed on sky 'why me?'

'I love you' He replied with a shaky voice

I nod to him with a forgiving smile

I had my moment of lucidity.

It is me, because I am the God sent child

His beloved creation, He used to be free

He made me from stardust so that

He could lean on me.

[ccrleone]

continued from x. / @arthisan

       ARTHUR’S JUSTIFICATIONS SCATTER ALONG THE TABLE,   joining dried glasses of water  &&  playing cards aligned to the game of war. genuine interest threaded the needle of their conversations, but limited space  &&  repeat victories (michael: 3 arthur: 2) evoked boredom. politely unspoken. restlessness filtered through glazed eyes. patriarchal words, deep  &&  disembodied, share droning locutions past barriers of walnut-stained wainscoting. fingertips tapped against the table once, twice, three times, four … a mantra propelled into grey matter; tenacity  && complacency packed into dense granules. forward lean slight, michael’s head shakes side to side, momentum pathetic, relying upon an incidental smirk conned in mischievous certainty. the final nudge to his friend’s conscience. 

❛ nah. if we stay inside the compound, there’s not much pop can do.  ❜  offers permission. headstrong reassurance against the lie, dimly white as eggshell, passing through the gentle gaps of his teeth. he imagined future scolding — the bull-dog jowls of his father shaking in dismay. michael, listen to these meetings. michael, think about your future. michael, michael, michael... the younger corleone’s speech hastens. picking up the cue for a change in scenery, he stands, slides his chair in.  ❛  besides, you’re a guest. and i ought to be a good host.  ❜

absent of a second glance, michael leads paces ahead, grips the handle  &&  pulls the door towards him. boyish dither tilts his head. pupils fidget across wells of white. he shifts, half-guarded behind the door, sacrificing initial departure. reverie stretches across his smooth face upon witnessing polished curtains of lavender && mauve mantled to arthur’s skin like a fine quilt. an odd heat stirs inside his chest, spreads up the length of his neck && blooms against pale olive-brown cheeks.  fist clenches upon thigh. pressure welcomed, but weak in distraction. michael corleone hadn’t anticipated the sunset so soon. 

temperate hands tug on the handle behind him, footing clumsy; an understanding so foreign, instinct deafens blushed ears. or is it the wind? mellow whisps tenderly swipe invisible fingertips against the younger corleone’s skin, returning mundane color. wooden earth  &&  floral soil overwhelm with pleasant after-taste.  the vast freedom of four gardens, a small labyrinth of a courtyard,  &&  various fruit trees posed as the corleone compound — a diorama of envy to the outside world && a prison all the same. regardless, the wide yard challenges him; a rerun of youth after twenty years. fresh purpose itched at the bottom’s of michael corleone’s shoes. they had a lot of ground to cover before supper. 

he shoves past arthur’s shoulder, nearly toppling them both to the earth. quick to regain composure, michael's methodical in his jump. recovers well. turns his head, buzzing for one last look before serving arthur a big fat plate of dust.

❛   race you to the oranges!   ❜

[dismay3dd3vilw00d]

I'm so obsessed with Jellyfish right now I think it's my favorite tert for the moment. I need Jellyfish on every single Ancient right now actually. Let me turn every Ancient into little gummie jellies. At least expand it to Dusthides c'mon their bald little head is begging for Jellyfish!

[fractalcloning]

The EMH was, in turns, deeply grateful to be aboard such an ecclectic ship and a bit dismayed by it. His sparkling personality was truly lost on most of the crew, Data inclusive. In truth, he knew Picard on sight--it was rather difficult not to, all things considered--but he nodded along at Data's gushing. (Gushing being relative, of course, but he knew what pride looked like on the especially stoic.)

Normally, Data's assessments of the situation were truly top notch. He was direct, to the point, and didn't waste a single iota of anyone's time dithering about. The Doctor really, truly appreciated that about him, even if his dry witicisms often sailed over their de-facto Captain's head. The scanner completed its work as Data stepped away and retrieved a console but, extraordinarily, the results of the scan conflicted with Data's assessment.

"Hm. That's going to be a challenge," The EMH replied and leaned to one side to engage the halo on the biobed. It closed over the girl and commenced with another scan.

"What? Why?" Picard asked after a beat, his brow already dipping with concern. Had she truly injured herself? Had she crashed terribly-- "Well, the first problem is: she's not an android," the hologram informed them both. "She is," Picard instantly assured him, his surprise evident. "Isn't." "I can assure you--" "I'm sorry," the hologram snapped and glowered, clearly offended at being so blatantly disagreed with. He promptly held out the handscanner and Picard could do little but take it from him. Waspishly the hologram added: "I wasn't aware you'd gotten your MD. Did you pick it up as a retirement hobby? Ambitious of you." "Pardon me?" Picard was finding he didn't care for this EMH. Then again, he'd never really been very fond of any of them. They were efficient and invaluable, but he much preferred human doctors. He cast aside his affront as the Doctor moved around the biobed. Dahj was bathed in the greenish light of the Romulan scanner and they watched in real-time while it did its work. As the computer imaged her, a holographic representation formed above her, slice by slice. As it compiled, the Doctor reached up to the hologram and pulled it apart into vertical layers--each one displayed an organic system in impressive detail.

"As I was saying," the EMH continued as the biobed halo concluded its deep scans. He gestured to the display and looked from Picard to Data. "That's a genuine, red blooded, dyed in the wool, human woman."

"That's not possible," Picard disagreed as he read through the handheld's results, confusion clear on his face. Every reading on the screen disagreed with him, as did every reading on the biobed's display. Romulans might not be the most advanced when it came to medical technology, but there were precious few species with more developed scanning capabilities. "These readings aren't right," Picard tried to explain and the Doctor huffed a sigh. "Are you implying that, on a ship of exclusively synthetic organisms, we just let the scanners break?" the EMH asked, his tone shifted to employ as much patience as he was capable of. He was cantankerous, certainly, but even he could muster some traditional professionalism when necessary. "Your assessment is erroneous," Data interjected and that, at least, seemed to have some weight. The Doctor gave him a curious but longsuffering look and interacted with the holographic representation of Dahj again.

"Shocking, I know," he began. "but she hasn't got anything that would indicate she's an android--she has no identifiable implants of any kind, no nanoprobes, no ports, no power supply, she's pristine. She hasn't so much as broken a bone in her life. She's hale and whole--except for some surface dermal abbrasion and a cut beneath her hairline, neither of which are mortal concerns." "I don't understand," Picard admitted, absolutely baffled, and set the handheld aside on the bed. "I've seen this girl leap ten meters, watched her disarm and disable ten Zhat Vash assassins. She can move faster than I can see--?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Maybe she does taekwondo?" The EMH stepped back and made space for Picard to circle the bed. He did, as the space opened, and immediately began tabbing through the biobed halo. Every reading was normal, even nominal--the technology couldn't be faulty, and there was no way a Romulan military grade scanner was simply wrong, so how was she doing it? Picard looked to Data as though he might have an answer.

"Could she be giving off false readings? A falsifying RFID, perhaps to allow her to appear human on scans? Is that possible?" Picard asked and, despite not being the one to whom the question was addressed, the Doctor answered.

"There's a good, old-fashioned test for that, as well," the EMH said and retrieved a hypo from a nearby rack. The tool had a fine layer of dust that he shook off as he returned to the bedside. Then, as casual as you please, he pressed it up against the line of Dahj's neck, just along her juggular. The tool hissed and the vial filled with blood, or a liquid functionally indistinguishable from it. Picard stared, flummoxed, and a creeping doubt tried to gain foothold in his mind. He quashed it--Dahj was clearly synthetic. It was simply a question of how. "If you want a second opinion, I'm sure Soteria or a dozen of the AI floating around the computer would be happy to analyze this sample," the Doctor said once the vial was half-full. He pulled it away from Dahj's neck and ejected the vial from the device. Picard watched it but, even without a scanner, he recognized it--the viscocity, the film it left, the way it moved in the container, it was blood.

"Remarkable," Picard muttered and glanced at Data's console, across the bed from him. "Can you connect to her?" Surely on a ship with so many synthetic beings of such different makes and models--

"While I'm happy to entertain this hypothetical," the EMH interrupted again, this time with some concern. He had intended to go place the sample in the scanner but the shift of conversation stopped him mid-step. "I should point out that she has nothing even remotely like an access panel. I'm all for testing, but I must put my foot down before someone suggests surgical intervention." "What? Of course not!" Picard replied, aghast and the EMH was taken aback by the force of his refusal. Despite the sharpness in Picard's tone, the EMH seemed to wholeheartedly approve of the iron-clad rebuke. "I am, however, quite satisfied with your "assistance." If you don't intend to to be helpful, kindly remain quiet." The EMH's brows rose approvingly. He looked Picard over briefly and clucked his tongue again. His estimation of Picard seemed higher for being yelled at, as absurd as that was. "Now, now, Helpful is my middle name," the EMH countered but this time, with considerably more politesse. He looked to Data, his argumentative streak set aside, and searched for confirmation. "You're both positive, then, that she's somehow synthetic?" "We are," Picard confirmed with as much firmness and authority as he had available. The Doctor folded his arms and tapped the sample vial idly against his opposing forearm. He was (blessedly) silent for a span, his expression thoughtful. He was still in a way that spoke volumes about the sheer amount of information he was parsing through. Picard might not have liked EMHs, but he couldn't deny that they were a formidable database. "If I was an android…and was hellbent on passing as a human," the Doctor muttered and his head bobbed just slightly back and forth. It was a human mannerism he'd clearly adopted and it was uncannily convincing. "Hmm….Ah! I've got it." "You do?" "Well, no, not exactly, but I think there are a few arcane techniques we could employ here that will confirm your impossible hypothesis," the EMH replied and glanced up at the ceiling. "Soteria, my dear, I don't suppose we have the materials on hand for a magnetic resonance scanner?" Before the computer could answer the Doctor huffed. "Of course we don't--we might as well keep an iron maiden onboard, we'd get just as much use out of it. How about…heavy electromagnetic dampening? Hm? I don't suppose we're equipped for that but, given how Romulans feel about technology, if any ship would have something--" "Will that harm her?" "Hm?" The hologram seemed surprised by the question. "No, it's harmless to humans--ah, right. Fair point." Unfortunately, after ceding that, his frown deepened. After a moment, he looked to Data and, somewhat apologetically, admitted: "This may exceed the limits of my vast medical library. Unless they've suddenly repealed the Shenzhen Conventions and the Geneva Protocols, I have no idea how you would hide an android inside a human." He sighed. "We may require a specialist."

If there was someone he confided in unconditionally, it would be Picard; he had supported him where others had questioned his autonomy, he had defended him where others had objected to the validity of his capabilities, he had demanded reverence and equality where others had patronised and degraded him. And, as his superior, Data had seldom, if ever, challenged Picard's decisions, his intuition, his years of experience, and therefore, the claim that he was convinced that Dahj was the android's daughter, which had yet to be confirmed by empirical data, somehow made sense to him — he trusted him. Besides, he saw no logic in someone creating an android that was the facsimile of his painting titled "Daughter", but subsequently not relating her to him. He could only hope the test would pop up positive, because regardless of his good intentions, zeal and determination, he could not replicate an other Soong-type android, despite being one himself. He could repair others and fashion substitute components, but constructing a live specimen from scratch seemed to be beyond his comprehension, his abilities. Perhaps he required the one thing he had never fully mastered: humanity and all its nuances that were, and always would be, lost to him. He supposed it would be a consolation to humanoids to know that despite their independence, AI still relied on human expertise and inventiveness, impulsiveness to build stable and sentient androids — at least, for now...

With this newly harvested information, Data focused on Dahj again and without engaging in supplemental ambivalences regarding her origin, scooped her up in his arms, carrying her like a father would his child who had claimed they could stay up late but practice proved the contrary.

'This way, sir,' Data said, having risen to his full height and exited the transporter room with Picard in his wake.

The infirmary was vacant, as could be expected on a ship where androids and digital AI constituted the ship's complement. Fortunately, the lack of organic patients did not render the EMH less accommodating — cranky, for sure, but he was still as helpful as he had been during his time serving aboard Voyager.

The scathing remark the EMH spat at Picard caused Data to make an oh-dear,-here-we go-again face, but discontinued the expression when the holographic doctor diverted his attention to him. Although Data respected the sentient and emotional capable computer simulated physician, his sarcasm and acerbity was still situated far beyond the boundaries of Data's comprehension and made it a challenge to communicate with him; data always struggled to navigate his way through their conversations when the Doctor embarked on one of his infamous caustic rampages — Lore, on the other hand... Fortunately, the EMH's proficiency and expertise in his field and the general knowledge he had accumulated during his time on Voyager had aided them on multiple occasions.

'I was not planning to turn the retrieval of organics into a recurring behavioural pattern,' the android assured him as he carefully unloaded his arms. 'But this is my former Captain: Captain Jean-Luc Picard,' he added with a tinge of sincere veneration, of esteem, audible in his voice and visible in the way he glanced up at Picard. 'And as for your patient, she is... an android. We should run a diagnostic on her systems to determine whether she is malfunctioning — it appeared that an emotional overload destroyed her synthetic epidermal layer. And in addition, I will run a program of my own to establish whether we are related or not.'

Data temporarily abandoned the Romulan biobed to produce the equipment necessary to conduct his examination and engaged the console — Soteria's code flashed, unobtrusively, on the terminal screen, reporting for duty, should he require her assistance.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

heyy have a response for ur spooktober!! i was thinking a daphne greengrass x werewolf reader, like their in 6th gear and r is having a hard time cuz she’s always tired from transforming and the upcoming war. thx so much!!!:)

A/N: Hey! Thanks for requesting! I miss writing for Daphne and Pansy so much, I think they are severely underestimated characters. I love the idea with depicting Daphne’s relationship with Y/N in the light of the upcoming War. Hope you enjoy and like it:) 

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of the War

_________

Acrid! Everything screamed acrid in this very room of people, setting every fiber of your body on a vile dither between retching and running away from the throng, concealing yourself in the dormitory where the bilious feeling wouldn't reach you anymore.

Sweat, meaty effluviums, and that blaring laughter.

That blaring laughter that perversely made you want to shove your head in the wad of polystyrene and scream until everybody quelled. Instead, all you did was sit at the very bench in the Great Hall, inundated and dogged, barely touching your food that tasted like sawdust in your mouth anyway. You never tore your gaze away from that bloody crevice in the middle of the table but you were keenly aware that another pair of eyes was beadily following your every movement.

"Attention everyone!" instructed the shrieking voice of Alecto Carrow who you had learned to detest since the beginning of the 6th Year. She and Amycus were a menace, really, opting for assailing as many Muggleborns there were in the school as possible. No wonder - the thought slipped to your mind - that so many had decided to flee; in the light of all the attacks that had transpired over those few months, you were sure it was the most rational decision that could have been made. "We’d like to introduce some new rules to you all, ay? It’s come to our notice that some of you have been taking part in some underground activities against your new authority.” While saying so, she made a hand gesture, tacitly elucidating it was her and Amycus she was hinting on. “By saying underground, I mean illicit. Whoever therefore decides to continue with such behavior, shall be punished, yeah? And will regret putting oneself into that. Little pieces of shit-”

“Lady Carrow...” It was Snape who wanted to butt in but unsuccessfully; you weren’t sure whether he realized how ridiculous it had sounded to call her anything in terms of ‘lady’, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“-didn’t think we would have found out about little crimes, did ya? Well fucking wrong!” She said that in one breath, onerously, and after doing so she slumped back to her upholstered chair, downing half of her goblet in one gulp and swabbing her lips with a sleeve. As much as she had tried to keep herself unflappable at the beginning of her monologue, she had lost her temper in the flash of seconds. You wondered, subconsciously, whether Snape still would have called her ‘lady’ after that.  

The murky air settled over the entire room, students swooning with dismay; and suddenly, you didn’t feel like eating anymore at all.

Overwhelmed, you gathered your things and hurtled out of the room, trying to shove that emetic churning feeling away. With every step, you got more and more certainty that either your dormitory or a common room, or any other place in the building basically, was the last spot you wanted to be bound to right now. And so instead of careening over to the dungeons, your feet steered you over to the seventh floor, eventually landing on the Astronomy Tower, where tranquility and lack of students’ presence could be found.

You sat at the very brink of the gneiss ledge, tangled in between the metal barrels. You abhorred, truly, the new reigning in Hogwarts; you wondered whether it was ever going to have its cessation. Your friends have been engulfed with terror, escaping the school’s territories at any possible instance; the only ones who had yet remained in the vicinity were Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne.

The distinct steps suddenly reverberated in the corridor and in mere moments your body was overcome with rigidness. You braced yourself mentally for the upcoming; was it Carrows yet again doing rounds around the school in the mere hope of inflicting retribution for entertainment? Being a Slytherin in the school had lost its perks since the beginning of the 7th Year; there was no demarcation anymore, Pureblood or not, and no one cared for a spillage of magical blood anymore. But never have you actually thought of the idea that you might be one among the other mass of Carrows’ victims.  

God, you hoped that it was only your head driving you mad.

The door to the Astronomy Tower flung and you nearly swooned, feeling an overwhelming relief when it was only Daphne who stood in the middle of the frame.

“Oi, there you are!” she proclaimed with a beam, her hands flying in the air as if in ballistic motion. “You rushed out of the Great Hall so quickly, I was worried something had happened to you.”

“You nearly scared the death of out me, Daphs,” you said, truthfully, still clutching the barrels ever so tightly and glancing at her over your shoulder. The walnut leather satchel with all her books was still fixed around her torso. “I thought it was Carrows hunting their pray again.”

She gave you a waning smile. “Luckily, just me.”

With that, she flumped next to you, her rangy legs hanging loosely from the ledge. Glancing over at her from that angle, you thought her angelic; it’s not like you hadn’t perceived her allure before. Yet here, with that moonlight beaming on her countenance and acutely defining her luscious lips and prominent cheekbones, her navy blue eyes reflecting the hovering stars in the sky... you definitely felt that zsa-zsa-zsu feeling dancing in your stomach. So perplexed by this realization, you hadn't even registered she had started talking again.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

“Ummm... sorry,” you said, flushing all of the sudden. “What were you saying?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

You glanced at her suspiciously. “Yeah. I mean, this entire situation with Carrows is wearing me out but I’m coping.”

“I don’t mean... I don’t mean the upcoming War, though this thought is dispiriting too in a way. But I mean, your latest transformations. I’ve seen you in the Great Hall, during your lessons, and breaks. I don’t want to be hasty in setting presumptions but you seem to not be dealing so well with that burden.” 

Subconsciously or not, she caught your hand which now no longer resided on your thigh and instead on the stone cold floor, and for the first time she looked you in the eyes; really in the eyes, as if the surrounding world had abruptly slowed down. They were enigmatically enticing in a way, and swirling with sundry emotions - tenacity, curiosity, but especially... empathy.

Despite your best attempts not to, thinking it a callow thing to do in the shade of the upraised topic, your thoughts veered off to the contemplation of how pleasantly the heat of her hand managed to keep you warm in the vista of frosty winter. And did she mention that she had been watching you in the classes and Great Hall?; just a mere thought of it filled your stomach with a fit of butterflies again.

“Well...yes, it’s been a bit tiring lately. I think it’s this time of the year when my senses become heightened - my hearing it’s twice the volume it has been before, I see everything in great detail, and I can taste every bit of the ingredient in the meal. Don’t eat Pumpkin Pasties, by the way,” you said, and Daphne giggled at the last bit. “My parents have told me that this ability may come over time, you know, as a standard addition to being a werewolf. But I’ve just never assumed t-that it could come so quickly, you know.”

There was a pause for a moment, Daphne’s eyes still boring holes in you while you riveted your gaze to the dotted sky. Before however, you were able to pick up a novel topic, Daphne’s voice echoed again, this time more concerned.

“Can I help?”

Still, without looking at her, you unsurely placed your head on her shoulder to which she only reacted with a slight tilt of her own head. And while looking at the sky, observing and enjoying every bit of Daphne’s presence with her vanilla fragrance caressing your nostrils, you finally uttered:

“Just be here for me.”

“That always.”

[cupidenigma]

DOOM!

I began re-reading Lenore and I got an idea of how Molly and her would get along pretty well, much to everyone’s dismay.

Also, I discover how to use the dithering tool in asprite and went NUTS with it.

[frangipani-wanderlust]

Holmes discovered, much to her dismay, That she'd left the butter far away. Will she ration her store? Or use substitutes more? And she dithers on that to this day.

Woman who lives 80 miles from town forgets to get stocked up on butter; existential scream still echoing down the cosmic halls.

[houseofelle]

"Summer, 2021 (Oh, What A Night)"

---------------

Here ya go! Happy Season 16 Finale, ya’ll!

---------------

🎶 "Oh, what a night

Late June, in summer '21

Oh the fandom was sure havin' fun

As I remember, what a night

.

Oh, what a night

the grand finale of season sixteen

everyone was busting out the memes

What a show, oh what a night

.

Oh, I

Got a funny feeling when he tweeted, guuutttted

Hey, J

my advice, you log off very soooon

.

Oh, what a night

Hypnotizing and deranging me

the show had ended, but we'll never leave

and so there was season sixteen

.

I felt November in the tumblr chilli's that night

Spinning my head around, this a french mistake J2 fight?

Oh, what a night

.

Oh, I

Saw a prequel was announced, mary n' john

love storyyy

wait no, could've been a spin-off, what went wrong?

.

Oh, what a night

Check the bibros, are they okay?

And the hellers, are in dismay

Factions uniting, what a night

.

I felt a rush on spnstan twitter

When Tim awoke, the fandom was sure in a dither

Oh, what a night (Do do do do do, season sixteen)

Oh, what a night (Do do do do do, finale)

Oh, what a night (Do do do do do, do do do do)

Oh, what a night (Do do do do do, do do do do)

Oh, what a night (Do do do do do, season sixteen)

Oh, what a night (Do do do do do, finale)

Oh, what a night (Do do do do do, do do do do)" 🎶

---------------

Sung to the tune of “December 1963, (Oh, What A Night)”

Original songwriters: Bob Gaudio & Judy Parker

Performed by: The Four Seasons

 .

Link to original song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkGYlKs65qo

[hilarioushilarity]

(not) lost in translation pt. 2

{I am a lying liar who lies, 2-3 days my ass. You can read Part 1 here.}

The second time Alexei meets Kent Parson is at the All Star weekend that season.

When Mama and Papa had flown back to Russia, Alexei had rapidly realised that he was effectively a thousand miles away from everything he had ever known, and that:

1) Nobody around him spoke Russian; and 2) He couldn't speak English.

Alexei hates English. With a passion. He's not stupid enough to tell anyone this particular fact, but he thinks it every time he sits down for his English classes and wrestles with prepositions and adverbs, or heaven forbid, attempts to conjugate a verb. Every rule had a million exceptions, so what was even the point of the rule? English as a language was just unfair, he had decided, and he tells Mama this over the phone one month in.

She is sympathetic, in her typical Spartan manner. "You'll learn," she tells him. "Practise for at least three hours every day."

Alexei is appalled. "Mama, when am I meant to get three hours of practice each day?"

"There is always time."

He honestly doesn't know what else he expected. "Okay Mama," he says, and then turns the conversation to how stupidly big portion sizes were in America. Criticising the diets of North Americans was always guaranteed to catch her attention.

To his dismay, his father just laughs at him.

"Papa." Alexei may or may not be whining.

"Your Mama told you to just find time, didn't she," he says, when he's finally stopped cackling for long enough to take a breath.

Alexei hangs up on him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Papa says, when he calls back a minute later. The wheezing laughs have stopped, which is a relief.

"Okay," Alexei says warily.

"I mean it." His father is abruptly serious. "I'm sorry for laughing, you're in a tough situation right now. English is not an easy language to learn." They both know that his father never truly gained fluency in it - never had the chance to need it.

"It's really hard, Papa." He doesn't think he's just talking about English anymore.

"Things worth doing usually are, Alyosha," his father says gently.

Alexei chews his lip. "I don't know if I'm doing anything right."

"Are you playing good hockey?" Papa asks.

"Yes, Papa."

"You aren't bullying anyone on the ice?"

"No -"

"Working hard? Doing your English lessons? Going to all your practices on time, practising anything your coach says you need to work on?"

"Yes -"

"Then you are doing it right. And I am proud of you."

His father's voice is warm, and it curls around Alexei. He suddenly, desperately, wishes he could hug his father tightly. "Okay Papa."

"Now go and practice your English," Papa says, and Alexei does.

So hockey is the only thing he has besides torturous English lessons, and he devotes himself to it. He racks up goals and assists every game, plays a clean defensive game, and keeps his stats glowing. English smalltalk remains his nemesis but he's getting there, one pleasantry at a time. Before he knows it, he's being invited to the All Stars Weekend. He dithers over the invite for a few days, until the head of Capitals PR eventually corners him on his way out of the locker rooms.

"You should go," LaRue tells him. "It's good for building up your fanbase." He continues to go on at depth about social media presences and ticket sales. Alexei dutifully nods his way through the lecture, and ends up promising to go just to escape.

For some unknown sin in this life or a past one, he is roomed with a D-man from the Aeros who talks loudly and snores louder than a chainsaw. Alexei realises this on the first night when he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling as the red digits on the bedside clock tick over from 11 to 12, then 1. There's a snore once every three seconds, accompanied by whistling through some gap between teeth. Alexei kills half an hour searching up English sayings to describe snoring and deciding that his roommate "snores like a foghorn" before he finally gives up and rolls out of bed.

The hotel they've been put up in has an indoor gym and swimming pool. Alexei slings on a towel, sneaking out of the room before taking the lift down. On first glance, the gym is deserted, because any sane person is currently asleep. Alexei, running on no sleep, does not qualify.

Except, when he's halfway through his reps on the elliptical, a quiet voice behind him says: "Um. Hi, Alexei?"

Alexei turns around and comes face to face with Kent Parson.

What they are is nebulous at best. More than acquaintances - Kent Parson had talked to his Mama and Papa and his Mama had said Kent was a Very Nice Person. But less than friends, certainly. After the draft, Kent had gone west to the Aces and Alexei had gone east to the Capitals. He hasn't really kept track of Kent's career, but he would have to be under an actual rock to not know Kent is the only other rookie at the All Stars weekend and the NHL's current leading scorer.

"Hello," Alexei replies. There's a drop of sweat slowly rolling down his face and he's painfully aware that he probably stinks a little.  Meanwhile Kent Parson looks fresh as a daisy at one in the morning. The limits of his smalltalking abilities in English remain breathtakingly small despite the benefit of six months of English tutoring, so he kind of hopes Kent takes pity on his poor, sweaty form.

Kent does not. "It's been a while. Good to see you."

Goddamnit, they're smalltalking. "Good to see you, too."

Kent looks unbothered at the lack of scintillating conversation. He rolls onto the balls of his feet, fiddling with the strap of the duffel slung over his shoulder. "So uh. How's your mum?" he says, then immediately blanches. "Shit. I didn't mean - I just -"

"Good," Alexei says, mostly to put him out of his misery. "She good."

Kent looks earnest. "Oh, that's really good to hear." And then he seems to waver a bit.

"How is family?" Alexei says, when the silence stretches on. "They come visit after draft?"

"Ah yeah." Kent visibly brightens up. "They did! It was great, we had dinner and hung out a bit, and I gave my sister your mum's autograph - she's so cool by the way, but I bet you already knew that - I'd love to thank her again."

There are just - so many words. Alexei takes a few seconds to work through the sentence. "Glad to hear sister like. Maybe you see Mama again at game with Aces?"

"Definitely," Kent says, and Alexei's heard so many people say that over the past six months, but he thinks this time he could believe it. "So, uh. What's keeping you up?"

Only the loudest snorer on the entire American continent. "Roomie." Alexei searches for the words. "Snoring like foghorn."

Kent winces. "Jeez, I know what you mean. Did you try poking him to get him to roll over?"

"To scared to poke," Alexei admits. "Big guy."

"Who are you rooming with?"

"Winkler?"

"Fuck, yeah, he's a big dude. Better not poke him."

Alexei sighs. "Snore so loud - and whistle too. Like train." At Kent's blank look, he tries: "Choo choo?"

"Choo - oh god, you mean like a steam engine?"

Alexei pulls out his phone in answer. "How spell that? Steam engine?" He dutifully plugs in the letters Kent rattles off, and hits translate. "Oh. Yes. He steam engine."

"Heh," Kent says. "I double dog dare you to say that to him." He must catch the look of utter incomprehension on Alexei's face, because he quickly backtracks. "Not up with the slang yet? Sorry. I meant, you should tell him that."

"But why?" Alexei doesn't want to get punched.

"As a joke," Kent adds hastily. "It's funny, because we know it's stupid so we wouldn't do it."

English was just ridiculous. "Okay," Alexei tries. "Double dog dare you cycle on elliptical, see who faster."

"That's not..." Kent trails off. He smiles, then shakes his head. "That's not how it works. But we'll work on it," he assures Alexei, with a firm pat on his shoulder.

It's worlds away from the way the Caps' coach tends to roll his eyes heavenward when Alexei goes left when he should go right, or his English tutor, who is nice enough but is prone to banging her head against the table a little when Alexei fumbles the conjugation on a verb. "Not now," Alexei says. "Later?"

Kent checks his watch and he actually looks surprised, like the complete lack of other people didn't clue him in. "Wow, it's pretty late, isn't it?"

Unbelievable. "Why you up?"

"Got caught up practising."

Alexei sideeyes him. "Practising?"

Kent flushes a little. "Practising my stick handling. Shooting accuracy."

Alexei can't help but boggle at him. "You practising? At 1AM?"

"I couldn't sleep," Kent says, a little defensively.

"You crazy," Alexei decides, but there's a lot of fondness that must be apparent to even Kent, who looks less offended than he does a mildly grumpy, like the family cat when he accidentally stepped on her tail as a child. "But you wipe ice with everyone, so you champion crazy."

"Damn straight I'm the champion crazy," Kent says, planting his hands on his hips like a dork. "Yeah, laugh it up, I'll definitely be wiping the ice with you."

Alexei pretends to cower. "Okay, Kent Parson, I try best not cry on ice then."

"You will be bawling your eyes out," Kent says with promise, and then looks so affronted when Alexei just doubles over, breathless with laughter.

"I believe you," Alexei says to the ground, from where he's still bent over trying to catch his breath. "Cry many tears."

"You better," Kent says, but then he's laughing helplessly too, dropping his duffel. "Oh god, I really am champion crazy."

Alexei reaches over to pat him on the back. "Is okay, still like, even if Kent Parson practice hockey at one in morning."

"You don't think I'm too crazy?" Perhaps it's meant to be joking, but Alexei can't help but look up sharply.

"Never. You think Crosby best because he slack off?"

"I don't think he's ever stayed up until 1 because he was nervous about All Stars," Kent says, then bites his lip.

"You nervous?" Alexei asks. Kent hesitates. "Why you nervous?"

"I just - it's been a lot," Kent finally says. He's looking to the side, staring at the elliptical. Alexei waits, and Kent says in a rush: "I feel like I have to be the best, or - or else -"

"Not have to say what," Alexei says gently. "Not make you say."

Kent scowls. "It's stupid. Everyone's thinking it, they just don't say it. That I'm the second choice."

At the Draft, Alexei had known vaguely that Kent Parson and another boy called Jack Zimmermann had widely been slated to go first and second - in either order. It was true that every analyst had put the latter in first place, and that when Aces called Kent Parson's name there had been a slight pause in the audience's murmuring. Kent's smile had been strained as he left their table.

Alexei's stood across from Kent on the ice before. He's watched countless hours of tape of the Aces' play and by proxy, of Kent. Kent Parson on the ice is a force of nature, skating circles around defence and sinking pucks into the net as easy as breathing. And in his heart of hearts, he thinks the margin between first and second had been far smaller than most people thought.

But now, under the harsh gym lights that highlight the remaining softness of his jaw and the dark patches beneath his eyes, Alexei realises that Kent's still just a kid. Alexei's just a kid. They're both just teenagers. And there's very little of the player who had breezed past Alexei at the last Caps game with the Aces, or of the player who had mercilessly crushed their four game winning streak without batting an eye. Under the padding and past all the hype, Kent was far from the figure he cut on ice and as vulnerable as any other human.

"Even if people say second choice, what matter?" Alexei says. "You first. You here now. Play well. Maybe bit annoy on ice but not bully. And seem nice, polite to Mama. Thinking of sister even at draft. Get autograph for her. That matter. Not other people."

He hopes he hasn't overdone it - perhaps Kent wasn't looking for a heart-to-heart in the hotel gym at 1AM. But instead of taken aback Kent looks - a little watery.

"Why you cry?" Alexei is horrified.

"I'm not crying," Kent sniffs. "I'm not."

Alexei bites his tongue. "Uh okay." He politely looks away as Kent wipes his eyes.

"I'm not saying I can't cry," Kent begins, which Alexei takes as his cue that it's safe to look back at him. His eyes are just slightest bit red, and even that's only if you know what to look for.  “I just try not to cry in front of others.”

"Okay," Alexei says cautiously.

Kent takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Alexei replies automatically, then says: "But. For what?"

Kent stares at him. "For - listening? For not being an asshole about the fact I'm still some nervy rookie?"

Christ. People thanked each other for things like that in America? "No need thank," Alexei says. Then, desperate to change the subject, he adds: "So we agree! No need for nervous! You real KVP."

"The what?"

"KVP." Alexei gestures. "I see on Twitter - they calling you 'the Real KVP'".

"That's not - " Kent splutters. "That's my name, Alexei."

Alexei tries not wince. "Oh. Oops, sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Kent brings out his phone, thumbing at something on the screen. He eventually holds out his phone, open to a websearch. "See? It's a joke on MVP. That's 'Most Valuable Player'."

"Oh," Alexei says again. "Make sense. Sometimes miss reference - thank you for explaining."

Kent stows away his phone, corners of his mouth twitching upwards again. "You've only been in the US for what, six months? Your English is great. If you put me in Russia I would probably just turn around and go back to the US."

"You miss good food then," Alexei tuts. "Russian food is best food."

"Hell no, I've seen what you guys count as soup. I'm not touching borscht with a ten-foot pole."

"Borscht is best soup!" Alexei tries to sound outraged.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that anything that pink should not be eaten."

Blasphemy. "You try pirozhki then? Small, baked -" He gropes around for the word, then gives up and calls up the translator app on his phone. "Dumpling."

"I've never had that," Kent says, but he at least looks intrigued. "What did you call it? Pay-roz-kay?"

His accent is actually appalling. "Pirozhki," Alexei corrects.

Kent frowns. "Poe-roz-ki?"

"Pirozhki"

"Poh-rosh-ki?"

Alexei nods in approval. "Good, sounds good."

"I like the sound of baked dumplings," Kent says. "Mm. Pirozkhi. I might go see if there's any places that do it in Vegas."

"Let me know if yes." Alexei nudges him. "I come try when Caps play Aces."

"You got it."

Alexei cuts off any further conversation with the embarrassingly loud yawn that escapes him then.

"Shit, it's like 1:30AM." Kent winces. "We have to get up at like 7 tomorrow - today? Holy crap we better go to sleep."

Alexei levers himself up, gathering his towel and bottle. "Hope not fall asleep on skates tomorrow."

"How about I check you if I see you dropping off," Kent suggests, then snickers at Alexei's raised eyebrow. "Bad idea?"

"Sure can check me?" Alexei makes a show of looking Kent up and down. He holds his index finger and thumb about ten centimetres apart. "So small."

"You asshole," Kent says, but he's laughing. "I'm not short, you're just a giant."

"If say so," Alexei shrugs. They start towards the elevator banks. "If help sleep at night."

"Fuck you, I sleep really well at night," Kent says petulantly. Alexei eyes the shadows beneath his eyes.

"I believe, I believe," he says instead with his best shit-eating grin. They get in the lift. "Okay, floor?"

Kent reaches over and pushes the button for 15. "You?"

"Twelve. Thank you." Kent nods, and they start moving up.

"So see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yeah." Kent shoulders his duffel a little more firmly. "Be prepared to cry like a baby."

Alexei flaps his hands, just as the lift doors open on his floor. "Yeah, yeah, I cry so much."

The smile Kent gives him is small, but very real. "Good night Alexei."

"Good night," Alexei says, stepping out and turning to wave goodbye. The doors shut on Kent's smile, and Alexei stands there for a second, the airconditioning cool against his slightly sweaty neck.

"Hopefully not cry too much," he says to himself, before heading back to his room.